


Got My Eye On You

by lunchtop



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchtop/pseuds/lunchtop
Summary: In which Marco hooks up with a bartender, only to find out that the bartender in question is a patient at the optometry clinic he's just opened up.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2020





	Got My Eye On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RhetoricFemme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/gifts).



> It's been a year since I've posted anything, and I didn't get any better at coming up with titles that aren't ridiculous.
> 
> Happy holidays! This is my piece for the 2020 JeanMarco exchange. This year I got paired with rhetoricfemme, who wanted optometrist Marco/bartender Jean. I thought that was a unique, and interesting combo. Writing this was a lot of fun! eye doctor/bartender should be the new tattoo artist/florist.

When Marco decided that he wanted to be an optometrist, small-town life wasn’t what he had expected. In school, he always maintained that he wanted to move to a big city, open his own practice, and work with low-income families. Unfortunately, as it so often does, financial reality quickly set in, and Marco realized that living in a large city was going to be expensive, and starting a new business even more so. For now, Trost was going to have to cut it.

And, actually… Marco didn’t mind the change, as much as the thought he would. Business boomed from day one - apparently, Trost had no other optometrist’s offices, and people had been traveling to neighboring towns for appointments. 

Marco tried not to think too hard about people who needed to have their eyes checked driving on the highway.

Outside of work, life was… fine. He had found a grocery store that he liked, a few restaurants that were pretty good. He was renting an entire house for what a dumpy studio apartment in the city would cost him - he was even looking into getting a cat, now that he finally had enough space for a pet. He could also walk almost everywhere he needed to go - to work, to the library, to the cute coffee shop where the barista had his name and drink memorized within a week of Marco making stopping by part of his morning routine. 

But making small talk with the barista, or the bag boy, or his patients were all far cries from having real friends, and making real, meaningful, lasting connections. Not to mention the fact that he was coming up on four years of being woefully single. During optometry school, the lack of a romantic relationship was easy enough to ignore; he was so busy studying that Marco never had the time to sit and stew in loneliness. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he was actually lonely in the first place!

But now, coming home every day to an empty house, without much to do besides cook, watch TV, call his parents, and go to bed early, it was hard not to get lost in that sinking, empty feeling. Despite being an introvert down to his very core, Marco knew the only way to get out of his rut was to put himself out there, so after work on a crisp Friday evening, Marco changed out of his slacks and into his favorite jeans, donned his best jacket, and walked the four block trek to the only local bar he was aware of. He was not a big drinker, but in college, Marco found that this was an easy, fun way to make new friends, or at least get in some social interaction. It wasn’t until he stepped through the front door that Marco realized the flaw in his logic.

Everyone in the bar was already grouped up, sitting at their own tables, dancing in their own circles, minding their own business.

Ah, right. Trost wasn’t exactly a tiny town, but it was a far cry from the big college town he was used to. Most of the locals already had all of the friends they wanted or needed. There probably weren’t a lot of people in his situation; new in town, with zero connections to fall back on. 

But he couldn’t just turn around and leave immediately, especially after paying the five dollar cover! With a resigned sigh, Marco made his way over to the bar; he could have a drink or two, enjoy the music, head home and go to bed on time. He didn’t have an appointment until later in the afternoon, but that person deserved his best, well-rested effort, just like all of the other patients did. Still… it was a bit discouraging-

“-ello? Hello, is anyone home in there?”

“Hm?” Marco blinked, the stranger’s voice snapping himself out of his depressing inner monologue. Of course, if he sat down at the bar, the bartender was going to talk to him eventually. Laughing nervously, Marco looked up and-

_ Oh _ .

Everything about the man behind the counter looked sharp, from his irritated expression, to his chiseled cheekbones and fresh undercut, down to his elbows that were just visible under his rolled-up sleeves. 

He looked good, he looked - he looked like every bad boy Marco had fallen for in college, he realized. Right down to the septum piercing and red flannel shirt. He really was predictable, wasn’t he? 

“Ah, sorry.” Marco didn’t realize he was looking the bartender up and down, until he did the same in return. Unlike before, Marco was now seriously considering making a break for the exit, any awkwardness be damned. If the bartender thought he was being a creep-

But then he grinned, and winked, and Marco felt the tension in his shoulders dispel like a popped balloon, even though the warm sensation in his cheek increased tenfold.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Marco nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle, along with the rest of the tension lingering in his neck. “How could you tell.”

He rolled his eyes, “First of all, look around; do you see anyone else in this bar under the age of forty?”

Marco glanced around the room. He hadn’t noticed when he walked in, but it was true; he and the bartender were by far the youngest people in the room. “Uh… No, I don’t.”

“Which means you’re either here with your mommy, or you didn’t know you that this is the top hangout for the geriatic crowd.”

Again, Marco laughed. “It’s the second one, for sure.”

“I don’t know about that…” The bartender gave him another up-and-down. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a look at your ID, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, sure.” Marco fished his wallet out of his pocket, opening the first flap so that the other man could have a look.

He smirked. “Marco? That’s a name you don’t hear often.”

Marco shrugged. “My mom’s Italian; I think we’ve got at least five Marcos in the family. What’s yours?”

“Jean,” he said, with heavy emphasis on the  _ J _ , as if he was tired of having the name mispronounced.

“Now  _ that’s _ an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Jean before.”

“Yeah,  _ my _ mom’s…. Not into following the beaten path, is probably the nicest way to say it.” Jean reached under the bar, retrieving two shot glasses, and twirling one of them between his fingers before placing it on the counter. “What can I get for you, Marco?”

Marco had flirted in bars enough to know that this question was almost always a test. “Rum and coke?”

Jean nodded approvingly. “Alright. Yeah, sounds good, I think I’ll have one, too.”

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” Marco had always wondered about that, but there had never been an opportunity, during all of his undergraduate bar-hopping adventures, to ask.

Jean’s expression as he mixed their drinks suggested that he was curious about that, too. “I donno. No one’s ever stopped me. It’s not like I get piss-drunk while I’m working; what’s a shot or two, or five? Besides-” Jean slid Marco his glass, before lifting his own to his lips. “It’s not like I make tons of money here; this is a busy night for us.”

Marco nodded, taking his first sip. Wow, that was strong. Jean didn’t mess around, apparently. “Do you like working here?”

Jean shrugged. “Honestly? I think this beats working at bars with younger customers. All of the regulars here like classic rock, so the music is automatically better. Being a little bored is a hell of a lot better than having to break up fights every night, or clean up twenty-first birthday vomit.”

“I can imagine…” Marco took a second, longer drink, and glanced around the bar again. The ambiance was nice, he could see himself hanging out at that bar more often.

_ Or _ , he thought, as his eyes landed back on Jean.  _ Maybe I can just see myself hanging out here because of him. _

“Well, that’s my story. What are  _ you _ doing here? Did you even Google this shithole before you paid to get in?”

Again, Marco laughed. “Honestly, no. I just wanted to get out, maybe meet some new people. I’ve only lived here for a few months now, and this is the only bar I know of, so… Here I am.”

“Now, when you say  _ meet _ people...” Jean trailed off, leaning in a little closer. “How do you mean? Like, are you looking for friends, or…?”

Marco swallowed around the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. “Uh. I guess I’m open to anything?”

Jean grinned, stood up straight, and polished off his drink. “Alright, Marco who is up for anything. I’m sorry that you ended up at the most painfully boring bar in town, but I’ll do my best to make it a memorable evening for you.”

* * * * 

For the first time in a long time, Marco awoke to the sun shining in his face, rather than an alarm blaring in his ears. On any other day, that might be a nice change; far more relaxing than the foghorn noise coming from his bedside table. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any other day, and the soft throbbing behind his eyes and the lack of sleep made the bright light creeping through the blinds feel more invasive than warm.

“Fucking Christ.” Jean sounded just as irritated as Marco felt, so much so for a moment that he thought it was his own inner monologue talking, and not the very real, physical man in the bed next to him. “Turn the light off.”

Wait. 

Marco sat up quickly, and just as quickly realized that the sudden movement was a mistake. The contents of his stomach, and all of his memories of the night before, came bubbling to the surface. Marco covered his mouth with his hand, thankful when he was able to suppress everything but a burp. 

Last night. Flirting, laughing, drinking just a little too much, learning how to play pool with Jean the bartender after hours while the two of them drink way  _ too _ much, stumbling back to Marco’s house hand in hand, a goodnight kiss that turned into more kisses, into inviting Jean inside, into even more kisses, and then into-

Jean suddenly sat up in bed, and appeared to go through the same mental journey that Marco had just completed. He blushed, bright red, all the way up to his hairline. His eyes were focused straight ahead like his life depended on it.

“Uh, listen…” Marco said, trying to follow suit, but finding that he was having the opposite problem; looking anywhere else except for at Jean was next to impossible. He looked just as handsome in the daylight, and Marco was confident he would think so even if the purple mark on Jean’s neck didn’t fill him with an odd sense of pride. “Last night was-”

“I have to go.”

“Pardon?”

Jean was up and moving, about as quickly as anyone in their position could reasonably be expected to, shucking on his jeans and sloppily buttoning his shirt. “I have to go. Uh, I have an appointment.”

Marco frowned, his heart sinking. “Do you want some coffee first? Or breakfast?”

Jean shook his head, and seemed to instantly regret the gesture; he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m good. I- I’ve got to go.”

Marco watched him leave, listened to him cursing under his breath the whole way out, and tucked his head under the pillow when the sound of the door slamming behind Jean reverberated so loudly in his skull that he felt sick all over again.

Marco had never had a one-night stand before. He never intended to have one, and abruptly decided that it was not an experience he had any interest in repeating.

* * * * 

It hadn’t been a lie. Jean really did have an appointment. With only one eye doctor in Trost, the waiting list was months long, which meant his other options were going without contacts (bad), or getting a ride to the next town over from his mother (worse). 

But even if he didn’t have a valid excuse to book it, Jean would have lied out of his ass to get out of there sooner over later. Even now, thinking about the night before makes his face burn so hot that the cool winter air feels even cooler against his cheek as he walks to his appointment. He can’t remember ever feeling more embarrassed in his entire life, and for Jean, that’s saying something (not that he would ever own up to it).

He’s a bartender. Bartenders are supposed to be able to hold their liquor with the best of ‘em. But Jean had to go and out himself as a lightweight to the only new 20-something to move to Trost in almost a decade. Because of course, as soon as someone attractive crossed his path, Jean just had to go and make a fool of himself. He’d lost track of the exact amount of alcohol he had consumed pretty early on in the evening (... he’d lost track of most of the details, actually), but it didn’t matter. Jean knew himself well enough to know that he started acting like a fool three shots in.

Trost was a small enough town that he was bound to bump into Marco eventually, too, even if he didn’t come back to the bar to taunt him. Maybe this was a sign? Maybe it was finally time to pack up his things, and kick off the dust of his sleepy hometown once and for all?

Maybe. He’s thought about it before, but Jean was never able to follow through. Normally, at this point in his escapist fantasy, he would be reminding himself that there were bars  _ everywhere _ , with his skill set he could probably land a job easily enough. If he found a town with the right vibe, he might even be able to get a new band together, and start playing music again.

But no, not this time. This time, as Jean sat in the chilly lobby at the optometrist’s office, filling out the new patient paperwork, Jean’s mind explored different  _ what-if _ s. What if he did see Marco again? What if they could repeat the less embarrassing aspects of the previous night? 

Jean rubs at the mark on his neck, and he can’t help smiling, just for a second. It’ll never happen, he already blew his one shot with the hot new guy in town, but that one-night stand was likely to be on his mind for a while-

“Dr. Bott is ready to see you now, sir.”

Jean looks up at the short, blonde receptionist, and furrows his brows. “Annie, we’ve known each other since the third grade. You can just use my name.”

When she doesn’t say anything, and simply goes back to her desk, Jean wonders if she even remembers it. It’s not like they were ever friends-

“Hi there,” The doctor’s bright, optimistic voice greeted him as he entered the exam room. “It’s nice to meet you- Oh, Jean!”

Jean blinks, and rubbed his eyes, hoping against all hope that maybe, just maybe, he needs to update his prescription more than he thought. But, no, he’s never been that lucky, and there’s sweet, handsome Marco, standing in front of him wearing slacks, a polo, and a white coat.

_ Fuck _ . He was cute, fun, a good kisser,  _ and _ a doctor? Of course he was.  _ Of course _ he was. If the ground was ever going to open up and swallow him whole, that would have been the perfect moment.

Marco smiled at him, that cute awkward smile that Jean still remembered from the bar, before he’d gotten so piss-drunk that the details become fuzzy when he tried to recall them. “I guess you really did have an appointment, huh?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I did.”  _ Smooth, Jean. Real smooth.  _ “Don’t you have my name on your clipboard there?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean- I just assumed it was a  _ Gene _ not- Not you,  _ Jean _ , y’know?”

“Y-yeah, that… That makes sense.” It really doesn’t; Jean was almost positive he was the only Jean in Trost. But Marco was new in town, and handsome, and Jean was pretty sure he was made out of sunshine, so he decided to let it slide this time.

“Look, Jean…” Marco trailed off, sighed, and leaned against the counter behind him. “I promise, I’m not going to let what happened last night affect our doctor-patient relationship. You’re going to get the same quality of care as everyone else. But…”

Jean couldn’t help but feel like he was waiving a red flag in front of an angry bull. “But?”  _ But you made the biggest ass out of yourself last night, but if you see me on the street please don’t approach me, a doctor-patient relationship is the only relationship I want with you _ \- 

“But I had a really great time last night,” was not what Jean expected to hear, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t imagining it. “And I’m sorry, for how I behaved, if I came on too strong, or if things moved too fast. I’m not usually… I don’t usually hop into bed with strangers.”

Jean nodded along slowly. If Marco wanted to do all of the talking, his hungover-brain was more than willing to let him. 

“It’s just- Well. I’ve been single for a long time, and it’s been an even longer time since I had so much fun with someone. And I know we just met, but it seemed like you were having a great time, too! So I was thinking…”

Jean kept nodding, his smirk growing. “You were thinking…?”

Marco gulped, but that adorable smile never faded. “I was thinking, if you’re free tonight, I could take you out for dinner tonight.”

“Wow, Dr. Bodt,  _ tonight _ ?” Jean felt his chest swelling with confidence. The attractive doctor was asking  _ him _ out. “Didn’t you say that you don’t normally move fast?”

He shrugged. “Well, we have already slept together. How far are we supposed to backtrack?”

“Fair point.” Not that Jean had any intention of turning him down, anyway. “Yeah, alright; I’ve got nothing going on tonight.” And even if he had, Jean would pull any strings that needed pulling, make any bribes necessary, or bail on just about any imaginable plans, to go on an actual date with Marco. “What were you thinking?”

“Ah, well - I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, so I haven’t planned that far ahead. Dinner and a movie?”

“Trost doesn’t have a movie theater, Doc.”

This time, Marco smirked. “I have Netflix,  _ and _ Hulu back at my place.”

That vaguely sinister expression, on that face… Stirred up  _ something _ inside Jean that he couldn’t quite identify. But, luckily for him ( _ lucky _ , for the first time in his life) it sounded like he was going to have ample opportunity to figure out what it was, exactly. 


End file.
